Fearless
by madisonhagan1
Summary: "Like I told you the first day I met you...I'm fearless. You've failed, Johnny. I've won. You don't scare me, and you never will. How does that make you feel? Threatened, humiliated?-" She stood up on her tiptoes towards Scarecrow, a smirk on her black lips. "Scared?"
1. Truly Fearless

Psychological profile by Doctor Eve Korbin:

Name: Dr. Jonathan Crane aka The Scarecrow.

Occupation: Professional Criminal.

Base of Operations: Gotham City.

Height: 6'3.

Weight: 165 Ib.

Hair: Dark Brown

Eyes: Green. Usually blood-shot, (Yellow when in mask or wearing his colored contacts. Also usually blood-shot.)

Taunted and bullied in his youth, Jonathan Crane vowed to overcome his fears through the study of psychology and biochemistry. Kicked out of his university for experimenting on human subjects, Crane adopted the identity of the Scarecrow and armed himself with a specialized fear-inducing gas that makes a person's deepest fears become frighteningly real. His ongoing criminal reign of terror makes him one of Batman's most psychologically dangerous foes.

Despite his tendency for extensive role-play (oddly common among Gotham City's criminals), it's unclear to me why Dr. Crane was ever considered insane. I've been impressed with his genius for psychology and biochemistry.

Attributes:

Master of psychology and chemistry

Creator of fear gas

Motivated by an obsessive need to create fear in others

May have a split personality

No remorse after killing

Skilled at hand to hand combat

Surprising strength and agility

Genius intellect

May not be insane, just evil

Cruel, shows no mercy whether his victim is man or woman, child or adult.

Develops various tools which induce crippling fear

Additional notes:

He's valiantly battled a history of anxiety disorder, due to a difficult childhood and adulthood trauma, through an intense study of psychology and the causes of fear.

Other nicknames: Dr. Jonathan Crane, Crane, Scarecrow, Crow, Jonathan, Johnny, (Although he hates being called this particular nickname. Usually gets riled up when addressed as Johnny.) J, Mr. C. (By Harley Quinn.) The Good Doctor, (By Joker.) Master of Fear, God of Fear, and The ScareBeast.

EXTREMELY DANGEROUS! MUST KEEP LOCKED UP! NO RECREATIONAL TIME!

Eve, a new psychologist at Arkham Asylum, put away Crane's file, and grabbed the DVD off her desk. She put it in and watched the interview tape silently, keeping her reactions to herself.

The screen flickered to life, the video showed up not long after. She pressed play, and leant back in her chair.

Dr. Crane also known as the Scarecrow spoke, his electronically altered voice echoed as the man he talked to whimpered.

"Patient Interview 1. Patient was referred to me after the incident with Dr. Murphy. He appears to have suffered a breakdown of sorts. I believe it was brought about after the loss of his wife and child. As yet, the patient has been unable to speak. Continued observation shows little mental activity. It's as if the shock of what he saw triggered his mental collapse."

A guard was heard outside the door. It was a man. She recognized his voice immediately. Although she'd only met him twice. It was one of the guards she'd met when she first toured the asylum.

"There's someone in here! It's him! We've found him! Break down the door!"

Crane became annoyed, sighing inwardly. "Note to self. As ever, it is difficult to continue my research under such conditions."

The guard screamed out again, sweat dripped down his bow as he tried to beat down the door. "Step away from Dr. Combs. Now! Get down on the ground! We found them. Someone get a medic. Oh God, what's he done to him?"

The tape stopped as Eve turned towards Crane, who was sitting across from her, chained.

She clicked the recorder, turning it on, before speaking.

"Patient interview 3. Dr. Crane has been back in custody for 3 weeks. Regular sessions have been inconclusive. I am not sure he is actually insane."

Crane smiled wickedly. "Good evening, Eve. How are you tonight?"

She shifted in her seat, leaning forward with a frown. "I'm conducting the session, Johnny..."

Crane nodded, although agitated at the nickname as always. "Of course. If that helps you cope, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Eve wrote something down in her notebook as she continued. "I'm doing good, Johnny. Thanks for asking, even though I know you don't care. How are you?"

"Fine."

"Good. Let's talk about the event 3 weeks ago. What did you think you'd achieve? Dr. Combs and Dr. Murphy are still in therapy."

Crane shrugged like the answer was obvious. "I wanted to understand him. His personal demons. His _fears_. It's all quite fascinating, really."

"But you are..." She cleared her throat with a cough. "-_Were_ a respected doctor. A brilliant mind, now just another resident in Arkham."

Crane sighed, rolling his eyes. "Can I have a drink? A strong one? This kind of question bores me."

Eve shook her head, annoyed. "I'm afraid not." She sighed again. "I could use one too..."

Crane's head snapped up, a smirk forming upon his twisted pale lips. "Interesting choice of words, Doctor. Tell me, what are you _afraid_ of?"

She smiled, smirking. _"Nothing."_

_(The next day.)_

Eve sighed, rubbing her temples. "Patient interview 4. Johnny continues to evade questions. I believe he is quite sane. Just evil. He takes no interest in the people he has hurt. His research appears to be the only motivating factor in his life. What is it about fear that drives your obsessions?"

Crane chuckled, waving his hand lazily. "Fear drives everything, Eve. Everything. Your life is governed by fear. Every decision you make is a product of that fear."

Eve rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous..."

Crane leant forward in his chair, eyebrows raised. "You'd like to get married someday, yes? Because you're scared of dying alone. You want to eventually have children, right? Because you're scared of leaving nothing behind that really matters. You go to the doctor because you're scared of dying. Do I need to go on?"

She shook her head. "No. I think that will be all for today. Oh, and by the way, just to let you know. I'm not afraid of either of those things. Sure I'd like to get married and have kids, that'd be nice. But I'm not afraid of dying alone, or dying in general, nor am I afraid of not leaving anything or anyone behind. What about you? Are you afraid of dying? Are you afraid of not leaving anything behind?"

He glared at her as she called the guards to take him back to his cell. But it seemed she had gotten to him. He thought about her questions before falling asleep on his cot.

_(The next day.)_

"Patient interview 5..."

Crane smiled. "How are you today?"

"Fine, thank you. You?"

"Fine."

"That's good. I see they took you to the showers, trimmed your hair, and allowed you a shave?"

"Ah, So you're the one that made them do it?"

"I felt it was unhealthy for you to go without a shower for weeks at a time, with no shave or hair cut. They abuse you here. I don't like that."

"Yes...I see...Thank you. I was beginning to itch terribly."

"I'd imagine so."

"Tell me doctor why do you care for me?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"I could give you thousands of reasons. You should cower in fear before me, not yelling at the guards for being rude or violent towards me. In fact, you should e happy at their treatment of me, not mad or sad."

"Is it bad to care for someone?"

"To care for a criminal, yes."

"Would you like me to treat you like they do?"

"...No..."

"...Then I'll continue to care for you properly."

He nodded.

(Scarecrow refused to see her the next day, but came to the session two days later."

"Patient Interview 6..."

"...How are you, Eve?"

"Good, thank you. But I keep telling you, Johnny, this is my session."

The Scarecrow shook his head, clucking his tongue. "It _was_ your session, Doctor, but not anymore."

The security guard spoke up, walking forward worriedly, as Eve began to sway as if she were sick. "Are you _OK_, doc?"

She hesitated but nodded. "I...I-"

Crane chuckled darkly. "Oh, she's fine. Just questioning her grip on reality. You should be doing the same any second..."

The guard staggered backwards, his face contorting into an expression of horror. "Mom, is that you? Wait, what are you doing?"

Eve remained calm, still swaying as if she were going to puke any minute.

Annoyed that his doctor wasn't reacting at all, he sprayed her again, dousing Eve with more of his fear gas. Afterwards, Crane picked up her recorder, now _he_ was conducting the interview sessions. "Asylum interview 1. My experiment is underway. Working alone, I have created my ultimate Fear Gas, its potency a revelation."

The guard screamed. "Please, daddy, don't do it! Ah! Ahh!"

Crane continued. "I have developed feelings of kindness towards my doctor. That had to stop. I've decided to gas her. To see what she fears most. I need to get rid of her. She confuses me. The doctors say she's truly fearless...That she fears nothing, not even death. "

Eve remained calm. Not showing any signs of fear.

This _infuriated_ Crane. He grabbed her shoulders, and shook her violently. "How come your not doing anything!? Tell me what you see! Tell me! Come on! Scream!"

Suddenly, as if she had just come out of a trance, she smiled up at him. "Nothing. I see nothing. Although I feel a little sick, I feel no fear."

Crane growled, taken back. "What?! You're lying! Tell me! Tell me what you see, dammit!"

She chuckled, laughing in his face. "I see nothing. I'm not hallucinating at all."

He screamed, shaking her again. "What!? No! Impossible!"

"Nothing's impossible, Johnny. Like I told you the first day I met you...I'm _fearless_."

Crane let go of her and staggered backwards, mouth agape. "N-Nobody's fearless! That's ridiculous! How are you still standing? How come it's not affecting you?"

Eve shook her head slightly. "Who says it's not?"

Crane smiled and laughed hysterically. "I knew it. What is it like? What are you seeing?"

"I see nothing. It's affecting me, yes. But only physically. Nothing more. I feel no fear, I see no hallucinations." She smiled again. "You've failed, Johnny. I've won. You don't scare me, and you never will. How does that make you feel? Threatened, humiliated?-" She stood up on her tiptoes towards Scarecrow, a smirk on her black lips. _"Scared?"_

The guards burst in and grabbed Crane, cuffing him as he screamed.

"I will find out your fears! I will! You have to be afraid of something! I'll perfect my toxin, and make a batch just for you! You'll see! Soon the mere mention of my name will drive you into hysterics! I have to get rid of you! He says I do! I have to listen! You're ruining everything!"


	2. I Want To Be Your Friend

(1 week later)

Crane was drugged before they brought him into her office, hoping to calm him down. He hadn't been in a good mood at all since she foiled his plans. And even more so when she hadn't reacted to his fear gas. Eve had been at Gotham General Hospital the past week in quarantine. And was freed yesterday.

Crane sat down drowsily, eyes drooping.

"Patient interview 7...Hello, Johnny. Miss me?"

He growled, opening his eyes wide, now fully awake. "Can't say that I have."

Eve pouted her plump black lips. "That's disappointing. I've missed you." She smirked.

After a moment of silence she spoke again.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to ask how I am?"

To her surprise, he chuckled. "How are you today, Eve?"

She smiled, and giggled lightly. "I'm doing well, thank you. How are you today, Johnny?"

He chuckled again. Although confused by her jolly mood, especially after what he did to her and the guard. But then again, she probably wouldn't be traumatized if she truly were fearless. She'd probably be only amused. He sighed to himself and nodded. "Good."

Eve nodded. "Good to hear."

There was another moment of silence before she spoke, this time cutting off the recorder.

Crane looked up, confused. Eyeing the now turned off recorder on the table.

Eve sighed, noticing his confused expression. "I don't like recording our sessions."

"Why not?"

"It feels sort of wrong, like I'm invading what's left of your privacy."

"I've invaded your privacy several times."

"I...I know...But I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable...with me."

"I see..."

He shifted in his seat, leaning forward. "Tell me, doctor...How did you escape my toxins last week? Hm? Tell me. I need to know."

She shook her head. "Like I said. I have no fears, thus, your toxins don't work on me."

He growled, clenching his fists. "You're lying! You have to be!"

"I do not lie."

"You have to be afraid of something!"

"I'm not. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Of course It's hard to believe! Everyone has a fear, minor or not."

"I don't. It's as simple as that. Now, let's move on. Although I am treating this session lightly, even after last weeks incident, I am still in charge. I ask the questions, and you answer them, unless of course, you want to go back to your cell."

He was silent, glaring at her.

"Ok. You said you are doing well? How are they treating you here?"

"They treat me like they normally do."

"Which is how?"

"Badly."

"I see...Let's start with the usual beginning questions, Ok?"

He nodded.

"Good. Do you feel that people are trying to harm you?"

"Other then the rough treatment here?...Not normally, no."

She wrote in her notebook before asking another question. "Have you had any unusual experiences lately?"

"Besides you being the first to survive an attack from me?...No."

"Ok...Do you hear voices when no ones around?"

He hesitated for a long amount of time, but shook his head. "No."

"Do you see visions, or ghosts?"

"No."

"Do you experience any unusual taste or smell?"

"No."

"Have you experienced any strange sensations in your body?"

He hesitated. "...No...I think..."

"You think?"

"I'm not sure they'd be considered...strange. I've never...experienced them before..."

"What are the sensations you are feeling?"

"I...don't know exactly."

She wrote his answers down quickly.

"Ok...We'll get back to that later if you like...Any difficulty in concentration?"

"...No."

"Any depressive thoughts? Guilt? Hopelessness?"

"Maybe..."

"Mhm...Any sleep difficulties?"

"Yes..."

"How so?"

"I don't want to talk about it..."

"Any diurnal variation of mood? Any suicidal risk – Have you felt that

life is not worth living?"

"...Yes."

She looked up from her paper at him in concern. "Really? Would you like to talk about it?"

"No."

"Please?"

He looked up into her green eyes to find that they in fact held genuine concern. He hesitated again. "Maybe later."

"Alright. What about family?"

"What about them?"

"Do you have any known relatives in Gotham? What about your parents, where are they?"

"Dead. I killed them."

"Oh?...Why?"

"They were abusive towards me..."

"I see...How about school? How was school?"

"Horrible."

"Please elaborate."

"I was bullied constantly."

"Yes. That's what it says in your file."

He didn't reply.

"How was your relationship with your teachers and peers?"

"Peers: Horrible. Teachers: Fine."

"Ok..." She hesitated with her next questions. "Um...Age of puberty? Uh...Did you have any sexual experience...?"

"13. And no, none."

"I...see...Any jobs during high school?"

"No."

"When you became a teacher at Gotham University, was work good? Did you get along with your students and colleagues?"

"Yes, work was fine...I got along with some students. Not so much with my colleagues."

"Why?"

"I don't like people." He stated bluntly.

"Were you ever married? If so, did you have any marital problems?"

"No, neither."

"Oh? Then is there a girlfriend in your life?"

"No."

"Did you ever date? Have you ever been in a relationship?"

"No. Neither."

"Oh...Did you ever do any drugs?"

"No."

"I assume you drink?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a religion?"

"No, none."

"I see..."

She wrote in her notebook again.

"Do you ever have any thoughts that you try to resist but cannot?"

He hesitated. "...No."

"Any particular fears?"

"...No."

"Do you ever have to do things in a special way when you know It's unnecessary or absurd? Like when cleaning or washing?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"Do I need to tell you?"

She shook her head, giving him a slight glare. "No." She sighed, getting up out of her chair. "Ok, now that we are done with the general questions, we're going to do a general physical examination now, if that's alright with you."

"Fine..."

"Ok..."

She grabbed her tools and cautiously took his pulse rate and blood pressure. It was normal. She then checked all of his reflexes, (aphasia, grasp reflex and plantar reflex). Which were also normal.

"You are quite healthy..."

He nodded.

She sat back down after putting up her tools, sighing "Ok. Would you like to talk about why you gassed me?"

"Why would I?"

"I don't know. I just thought we should talk about it. I didn't do anything to you, did I? Do you not like me?"

"...No."

"I've been much kinder towards you then the others, Johnny. I've made them take care of your hygiene even though they didn't want to, I made them feed you more often, I've made them keep their comments to themselves...I care about you, even if you think I don't show it. I was chosen to be your doctor for a reason. Because I'm not afraid of you. Does that really bother you that much?"

"Of course it does."

"It shouldn't. Maybe you should be glad someone actually cares for your well being. You are very interesting to me, Johnny. I was rude during our last sessions, I realize that now. I shouldn't have mocked you like that...I'm sorry."

He looked up, squinting his eyes suspiciously. "You're not sorry, you're just trying to get into my head so I won't gas you again."

"No, I'm sorry. Really...Tell you what. We don't ever have to talk about your past if you don't want to. We can just...talk. Ok?"

"Just talk?"

"Yeah, like...friends. I'd like to be your friend, Johnny."

He looked into her green eyes again. She seemed to be telling the truth. "You really want to be my...friend?"

"Yes. Is that ok with you? I know you don't have any friends...I know you don't even like people in general. And I know you don't like me. But I heard what you said in the recorder last week. That you feel kindness towards me. For some reason that made me happy. I respect you, and care for you. Maybe It's because you were bullied in school, maybe It's because you were abused by your parents and grandmother, maybe It's because they treat you like crap here at the asylum. I don't know. I shouldn't care for you, especially after you tried to kill me...But I do. And I want to help you."

"..."

"Well?"

"No."

He got up abruptly, pushing the button on the table in front of him, calling the guards to take him back to his cell.


	3. Just one taste

(The next day.)

Batman, Gotham City's famous vigilante, had just caught the Joker and was bringing him in to be locked up in his cell at Arkham. She didn't really want to be near the clown and his comments and jokes so she walked on down the hall in the way towards her office where Scarecrow was waiting for his next session with her.

Eve walked in and sat down across from Crane, taking out her notebook and pen.

"Hello, Johnny."

Silence.

She frowned sadly. "Why did you leave so suddenly yesterday? That hurt my feelings, you know."

"...Why should I care...?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "But what I do know is that you hesitated. That had to have meant something. Right? Do you want me to be your doctor or not, Johnny?"

More Silence.

"Well?"

"I don't know..." He mumbled, sighing.

She sighed too and shook her head. "With all that you've been through, I'd expect you to be happy that someone cares for you and actually wants to help you. But instead you push me away. I don't understand...I mean. I do. But still. It's frustrating."

"I push you away because I know you don't really care." He stated.

She glared and slammed her notebook down abruptly, dropping her pen to the floor. "That's not true and you know it!"

"You've given me no solid proof that you truly care."

She thought about that for a moment. He was technically right. She hadn't provided any solid proof. Not really. Well what was she suppose to do!?

"What do you suppose I do to prove to you that I genuinely care?"

He didn't really know. Could she ever really prove that she truly cared? No. No one cared about him. No one. Not even his own parents. How could a Criminal Psychiatrist really care for him? And a woman of all people?! No one could like, care for, or enjoy the company of a scraggily little bookworm. Let alone a crazy _murderer_ like him. How could she care!? How!?

"Nothing. I'll never believe you. Theres nothing you can do."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. There's no hope for me anyhow. I'll never stop my work. Even if you did care, you couldn't help me."

"That won't stop me from trying."

"Don't try!" He screamed, his voice changing to a whole different level of low. "There's nothing you can do! I don't _want_ to change!"

She gasped as he strained against his cuffs, seemingly trying to attack her. "Johnny calm down."

"Don't call me that! There is _no_ Johnny! Only _Scarecrow!"_

She shook her head quickly. "No! I know the real, sane, good-hearted, Johnny is in there somewhere. I have faith in you!"

He screamed again, his restraints cutting into his wrists. "A casual stroll through this lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything! Awareness is the enemy of sanity, for once you hear the screaming, it never stops!"

"Stop! Please! You're hurting yourself!" She screamed.

"It is a proven fact that everyone on this earth has some bit of madness within their soul. I am no exception and neither are you!" He continued. "I am who I am. I couldn't even begin to tell you what terrible trigger for such insanity lies deep within my sub-conscious. Though no doubt that some would say that, indeed, it may be some demon of conscience. A deeply buried guilt for some unforgivable depravity. Then again, perhaps not." He laughed hysterically, his now extremely deep voice echoing off the walls. "There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind."

"Johnny quit it!"

_"I said stop calling me that!"_

His eyes glowed with anger and hate. He was glaring and growling at her, his mouth open with his teeth bared, his top lip curled up into a horrible sneer.

And that's when she realized he was right.

She wasn't talking to Johnny anymore. She was talking to the Scarecrow.

He had two personalities, split, and back to back. Connected by the same interests. One on the verge of insanity and one already there.

Johnny was gone. At least for now.

She got up and took a step towards him. "I'm talking to the Scarecrow now, aren't I? You and Johnny are two different people." It was more of a statement then a question.

He laughed again. "Hardly. The only thing that separates us is his conscience. Other then that, we are the same."

"I don't believe you two are the same. I've seen it in his eyes. I've seen it in his behavior. He isn't evil like you."

"Ha! Keep believing that, child. Because we are all limited in our knowledge, even the sanest of us are slightly insane. Even you. Our limitations are a kind of madness, and we can only choose to deny we are mad, and so descend into a dark spiral of total insanity, or accept we are mad and embark on a quest to regain our true and wholesome sanity. I just happened to accept it. But dear ole Jonathan did not."

"And so you became another personality."

"Correct. Maybe you're not stupid after all. Not many people have been able to coax me out in a session. I'm impressed. You must have really gotten to him."

"But I didn't _do_ anything."

"Ah. Maybe you are stupid after all. Either that. Or you're blind. Maybe you're both." He chuckled darkly. "Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all of these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like look at you or smile at you, or maybe they even asked to be your _friend_ and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'I don't care for you in that way' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love. I've always told him to be careful of love. It'll twist your brain around and leave you thinking up is down and right is wrong. After all. When love is not madness, it is not love."

She shook her head. "Are you saying that he l-loves...That Jo-"

"Loves you? Isn't it obvious?! Of course he does! Look at you! You're beautiful! But not only that! You are the only one who's ever shown him or me an ounce of kindness! You are the only one to survive our toxins! You are the only one that hasn't hallucinated because of our gas! You're amazing to him! Not only to him, but to me!"

"I-I-" She stuttered but he interrupted, still screaming.

"Don't say it! You don't understand either one of us! You-No...You weren't abused, you weren't bullied or fired from your job...You can't understand! I-"

"But I do! I do understand! Why can't you except that!?"

He strained against his cuffs again, making the bleeding worse. "I've been deceived by a woman before! No. No more! Not again! All of you are liars!"

She shook her head, a tear streaming down her face. This didn't go unnoticed of course. Scarecrow watched the tears fall from her cheeks down to the floor. Each drop making him realize she was telling the truth. That she really did care. She wasn't trying to cure him to get famous. She was trying to cure him to save him from himself. And yet. He still didn't believe it because he just didn't _want_ to believe it. It wasn't possible in his mind. It just _couldn't_ be.

He cringed as the pain in his wrists grew, but he kept fighting it. He kept pulling and ripping at his cuffs. He was starting to get dizzy. His anger taking a toll on him.

Suddenly she ran forward, grabbing his balled up fists. "Quit it! Quit! Stop it! Please! You're going to bleed to death or something!"

He tried to grabbed her throat. He tried to smack her. To do _something_.

He couldn't be deceived. Not by a woman. Not again.

She grasped his pale face in her hands that were now covered in his wrist's blood, pulling him forward. "Johnny. Listen to me. You can trust me. I can help you. You need to get better."

"I don't need any help! Didn't you hear me the first time!? I don't _want_ to get better!" He screamed in her face, flailing around.

"Quit it, Johnny. Quit fighting me! It makes no sense. You need help and you know it!"

"Why! Why do you care about me? ME! Of all people!"

"Because I just do, Johnny. I care about you. _Both_ of you. And that's exactly why I'm trying to help you. I need to help you. Don't you want to be sane again, living in Gotham without the police chasing you, tracking you down wherever you go. Maybe even teaching at the university again?"

"NO! I want to be the Scarecrow! _Only_ Scarecrow!"

She sighed. "Then I guess I have no use in being your doctor anymore. Good luck, Johnny..." Getting up, she turned around to walk to the door, planning on calling the nurses to get him to the medical wing asap when he grabbed her arm, yanking her back to the floor in front of him.

And that's when he kissed her.

It was earnest, not at all violent like she would have expected. It was tender, passionate, full of emotion. He'd done it on impulse. Not thinking his action through.

That was bad.

Because she slapped him.

At first he had felt the warmth of her lips against his own. The way they fit perfectly together. How soft she was. Then he felt his tongue slip into her mouth and at that same moment he felt her pull back and the red hot sting of a slap across his cheek.

He cried out but didn't let go of her, in fact, it only made him want her more.

Even the Scarecrow couldn't resist the affection, the longing and the lust he felt for her.

And so Crane stopped fighting it. He stopped resisting and gave up, letting himself and the Scarecrow be consumed by their emotions, their lust, and desire for her. For someone that cared. Not only someone who cared, but someone who cared for _them_.

One little taste. That's all he wanted. One little taste to sustain him for life in this horrible prison. With this one taste, he could rot here as far as he was concerned. He just needed to have her. Just once. Just once...


End file.
